Manywar
by Heir of the void
Summary: A tale of a world engulfed in war by the Infinite Stratos, and the changes that it brings.


**Hello, all! This is my first story for this 'verse, and a bit different from what I usually write. Anyway, I bumped the timeline of the cannon back about three years, so everything would fit. This chapter is mostly introduction and geopolitical and social worldbuilding, so I apologize if it is somewhat dull. I am certainly taking suggestions, critiques, and comments, so please read and review. Now, without further ado, Manywar. (Name stolen from Brandon Sanderson's **_**Warbreaker**_**)**

Ten years ago, the appearance of the Infinite Stratos armor system on the world stage changed everything. Geopolitics, first and foremost, but everything was touched to some extent. Politics. Economics. Science.

And, of course, war.

But not too much. War, after all, never changes.

**Ten Years Ago**

"And" a man said, strolling into the congressman's office "you managed to retain your seat on the house, not to mention your position on the Appropriations committee, how, exactly?"

"Gerrymandering, vitriolic campaigning, blackmail, you know, the usual" the congressman said, waving his hand "though I don't know how long I'll be able to retain either position. But that hardly matters now. I did, however, manage to get the allocations you suggested." He reached under his desk. "Scotch?"

"I'll refrain."

"Pity. In any event, everything seems to be going exactly as you said it would. The Whitinger Report on the White Knight incident was suppressed, and they put out another one that reflects... flatteringly on the IS, to say the very least."

"It killed over two hundred fighter aircraft, and incapacitated seven carriers. That would seem to need no modifications to suit their purpose."

"That sounds impressive out of context" the representative said, withdrawing a large bottle and a glass from under his desk "but consider it this way. First of all, despite allegedly being 'nex-gen' aircraft, most of them were second string Chinese units, piloted by inexperienced and poorly trained pilots."

The congressman poured the scotch into the glass, spilling none onto the mahogany desk. "As for the carriers, sure the _Eisenhower_ and _Truman_ were severely damaged, but neither sank. For that matter, the _Bush_ was listed as incapacitated, but she only lost a secondary fire control radar. Pretty much the same story on the _Reagan_ and _Lincoln_." He took a long drink "and above all, the I.S. was an out-of-context problem. Nobody expected to need to fight something out of an anime, and we took all the wrong approaches."

"I... see" the man said.

"The point is, Cicero, you'll have your money, and your quest isn't entirely in vain. I doubt this will end even remotely well, but 'the glory is in the striving', or so by dad alway said. Never was sure what he meant, but I think I'm starting to see it. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get drunk."

**The Oval Office, Simultaneously**

"And so" President Roslin muttered, resting her head on her fingertips, how many units did we secure?"

"Out of the 467 total I.S. systems in existence, we secured fifty directly, with another sixteen through corporate proxies." Her aid said "the Chinese acquired fifty-one. The Japanese got seventy, through a mixture of direct and corporate acquisition. England, France, and Germany each got twenty-five, but only as European Union Reps. The Russians got thirty-five. The Canadians and the Israelis got twenty each and the Indians got thirty. The one hundred remaining confirmed IS cores are scattered throughout the rest of the world."

"And how about the home front?" The president asked, opening the report the aid had left on her desk.

"Fairly well. Public opinion is shifting, though it's still slow at this stage. You're up in all the polls, and The House is largely loyal to you. The Senate will take time, and is still a male majority, but only because of the longer election cycles."

The president saved the most important for last. "And the military?"

Her aid pursed her lips. "Tougher. Not being politically appointed positions, it will be hard, at first, to modernize most of the upper officer corps, and increasing female enlisted and junior officer personnel percentages may be a challenge; we're drafting a report on that. The Germans have floated the idea of the creation of some form of political dual command structure, maybe ostensibly a NATO thing. It tends to be inefficient, though, just look at the soviet Red Army."

"We have plenty of I.S. cores. I thought the consensus was that conventional forces were no longer of significant relevance."

"Correct, madam."

**Present Day, Nine Years Later**

Idris walked through the streets, brooding. For the past nine of his seventeen years, his life had sucked. He had, increasingly, been related to the status of a second class citizen. With the legislation to remove male franchise looking like it would soon become law, that was likely to become official.

What's more, his parents, read mother, had decided to raid his college savings account to pay for his sister's surgery. While he supposed it was technically within their rights, doing it on such short notice seemed cruel, to say the very least. Of course, he would have understood if his sister needed some kind of life-saving operation.

The fact that his future was being robbed for cosmetic surgery was what really irritated him.

The light changed, and he crossed the street and walked on, wrapped in thought. A few minutes later, he stopped in front of a particular storefront. A small sign on the door proclaimed it to be a _US Air Force Recruiting Station_. The glass front was clouded with dust, and the inside was dark. With a sigh, Idris pushed the door open and walked in.

Idris had been here a few times before. The interior of the recruiting station had, over the past ten years, become a museum to the faded glory of the men who flew the fixed-wing combat aircraft of another age. He looked at the newspaper left on the desk at the back off the room.

Today's headlines were disturbing, to say the very least.

As Idris mused through the displays, he was reminded of a conversation he had had here a few weeks ago.

"_Oh, hey Idris" the man behind the desk at the back of the room said "what brings you here today?"_

"_Nothing much, Thomas" Idris said, sitting down "my mother made another questionable decision. She knows best, though, or so I've been told."_

"_What was it this time?"_

"_My college money" Idris said plainly. "She's using it to fund my older sister's nose sculpting."_

"_I... am not sure how to respond to that." Thomas shrugged. "Never really had a family myself. Made it to O-4 before that damn Shinonono girl changed everything. I've seen pictures of her. If I could get five minutes alone with her..."_

"_Thomas" Idris said "that's wrong. In several ways."_

"_What do you mean?" Thomas said, pulling a sheathed knife from his belt. "A kidney stab is said to be among the most painful ways of dying, and I learned a trick back in... well never mind."_

"_Oh." Idris said, surprised. "Not that I feel differently, but what good would that do?"_

"_She's the only one who can make the black box cores for those damnable suits." He shook his head "it's not even the discrimination, though I find that bad enough. It's what those suits have done to the balance of power."_

_Idris raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"_

Thomas reached under his desk and withdrew a large book, which he tossed at Idris. "Read that. Replace "Shardblade" with "Infinite Stratos", and you'll get a good idea of the problem. Plus, it's a good book."

"I'm... I'm not sure I understand."

"_You're smart, Idris, think about it. No matter how much we like to hide it, what is the most basic form of power?"_

"_The power to kill." Idris said. _

"_Exactly" Thomas said "now, pre-I.S., who could hold the power to kill, personally?"_

"_Anyone, I guess, in most cases."_

"_Correct. Now, however, there are 466 women and one traitor who can hold the ultimate combat power. Everything, economic policy, geopolitics, even social order, is based around that elite. And that is the idea I spent my life fighting." Thomas said. "God made men, and Sam Colt made them equal. Then Tabane Shinonono came along._

_Thomas took a deep breath. "Now, the winds of war are blowing. If it comes to conflict, it'll be a mess. Nukes probably won't come into play much, given the ability an I.S. has to destroy them, but that also removes their deterrence factor. If this war goes hot, it will mean the deaths of tens of millions, all over those machines."_

"_But there hasn't been a major conflict since the development of the I.S." Idris said "It's cost has made asymmetric war impossible, which is really the only sort any major power has been involved in for the past half-century."_

"_Correlation and causation, boy." Thomas muttered "there hasn't been a reason to go to war good enough to overcome the uncertainty factor the I.S. threw in the mix. Now, nine years of espionage, tournaments, and wargaming later, that's pretty much gone."_

"_Still, though, what would start a war now?" Idris asked, still processing._

"_The Alaska Treaty, and you really aren't supposed to know this, which is why I'm telling you, enforces a strict 'point buy' system on international relationships."_

"_That's the 'great triumph of the post-male era? Really?"_

"_More or less. In essence, the Alaska Treaty outlines a point system based on a nation's I.S. numbers and technological sophistication, as well as its performance in the Mondo Grosso. Now, due to a variety of factors, Japan feels that their performance in the tournament over the past four years has been artificially depressed."_

Idris creased his eyebrows. "Why?"

"_Short answer? The Orimura family. Chifuyu Orimura, formerly Japan's flagship pilot, dropped out of the second tournament to save her brother, and Japan's influence took a hit. When she failed to participate in last year's tournament to repay the debts she incurred doing so, they got hammered. Also, the Alaska Treaty Commission's report on each nation's I.S. capabilities is due out in two weeks, and with it, the 'marketplace' with scores from the last Mondo Grosso."_

_Idris connected the dots. "So Japan wants something badly enough, or stands to lose something precious enough, to go to war over."_

Thomas smiled. "Good. For sake of convenience, I'll tell you what it is. Japan and China have long contested ownership of the Senkaku Islands, and, more importantly, their oil reserves."

"_Really? They'd go to war over that?"_

"Probably not, but it is a source of tension, and, after the report, anything could happen. Also, it's a matter of pride for both sides, and the Chinese leadership is still paranoid. I'm not saying that it will happen soon, or even this year. But war is coming."

The report had been made earlier today, while Idris was in school. As the door in the back of the room opened and Thomas entered, Idris made a decision.

"Is this place still a functioning recruiting center?"

"Well, yes" Thomas said "but no one" he turned to look at Idris "are you serious?"

"Sign me up."

He smiled.

**East China Sea, Four Years Later**

The somewhat antiquated JASDF F-15 cruised through an open sky. The pilot was on edge; things had been quite touchy in the weeks following the Gospel incident. The Chinese insisted that the prototype had not gone haywire, and that it had been a deliberate act of war by the United States. They had stepped their naval presence considerably.

The calm of the cockpit was shattered by the blaring alarm of a radar lock. The pilot stiffened; three different Chinese fire control radars were locked onto his aircraft. He had been told that this occurred often, but he was inexperienced, had never seen it firsthand.

As he went to com his flight leader for advice, another alarm blared, indicating an object on a collision course from the same approximate vector as the radar locked onto his craft.

He flipped the cover off a switch and pressed. A moment later, four antiradiation missiles detached themselves from his aircraft and rocketed toward the Chinese destroyers.

The ships fired back, and destroyed two of the missiles. An instant after three SAMs were launched at the offending fighter, the two remaining antirad missiles struck home.

The pilot never had time to realize the full implications of his actions, the Chinese missiles vaporized his aircraft scant moments later.

However, the flight leader had time to realize that WWIII had begun, and as his screen filled with angry red icons, he almost managed to tell ground control before the missiles found him.

**I.S. Academy, Seventeen Minutes Later**

"And that, class" the teacher of class 1-2 said "is why-"

The door burst open, and eight men in JSDF combat fatigues entered the room, rifles raised. "Lingyin Huang" one of them said "we are taking you into protective custody." The other members of the squad trained their rifles on her "and don't think about deploying your I.S. My men and I can and will shoot you before you are able to raise your barrier. Now, put your hands in the air and walk here, slowly."

Rin began to walk forward, slowly. As soon as she was within arm's reach, one of the soldiers clamped a thick collar around her neck. The leader let out a sigh of relief. This was the most dangerous part; despite what she had said, the odds were about even that her squad could have inflicted disabling injuries on the girl before she could deploy the suit. With the explosive collar on, however, they could relax. Somewhat.

As the squad escorted Rin down the hallway, Ichika Orimura, Charlotte Dunois, and Laura Bodewig burst out of class 1-1. "Sis" Ichika shouted, spotting his sister "what's going on?"

When she spoke without admonishing him for his term of address, a pit formed in his stomach. "Ladies," she announced "and Ichika. We are at war."

**Somewhere in the North Pacific, Later**

A man walked into a dimly lit room, slamming the hatch behind him against the cold. "Guess what?" He said, picking his way across the cluttered floor toward another man in the corner of the room "we're at war."

"Great" the second man muttered. "China?"

"Yea. What's the status on the the project?"

"It's not done yet. The prototype is coming together, but this really isn't like anything ever done before. Problems come up, and we really have no frame of reference for how long it will take to resolve them. However, we should have at least basic operational capability... soon."

The first man looked up and the sleek, predatory shape hanging in the air behind his colleague and smiled, a cold, predatory grin that stopped well short of his eyes.


End file.
